Words
by Heaven'sSweetSymphonies
Summary: Words written in their diaries are the same words they are bursting to say to each other. Will the day finally come when they offer these words to each other? Let's find out.. Ron and Hermione.
1. Prologue

**A/N:  
**It's been a while that I've been here in fanfiction but this actually a first for me to write a story. It started out as a challenge but I've fallen in love with the thought of it. I'd love to hear what you think of it, though.. Read on...

Words  
by Heaven'sSweetSmphonies

Prologue

_Don't you sometimes wonder that if you dream and wish for something long enough and hard enough, will you finally get it? If you concentrated all your energy on it, would it, at long last, will itself to come true? And then, crazy as it may sound, if you give her words, you wonder, will she reject them? Will she scoff at them? Laugh at you face to face? Be shocked and vow never to speak to you again? Or will she give you one of her sweet and beautiful smiles and say those words right back at you?_

_I know, sometimes, there are too many possibilities like failure, rejection, and humiliation. Possibilities that you dread and wish you could ignore. Yet they are all you can really think about; just when you're about to sleep, about to eat, about to smile; every single time you do mundane, earthly things, these thoughts creep into your mind startling you, depressing you, making you wish you can just block them out. _

_But, alas, that can never happen. No matter how much you attempt to pull yourself together and shake the negativity out of your life and think positive thoughts, with every positive thought, you have two negative thoughts that spring up as rebuttal. _

_But then you berate yourself and say that dreams never come true unless you make it so. You give yourself endless pep talks and optimistic advice. And then, just when you finally gather up the courage, you turn and see yourself losing, burned and you tell yourself, "No way I can take that chance and end up making that a possibility."_

_So, idiot that you are, you keep on dreaming. Hoping that it will someday happen, knowing full well that it won't. But that's how you are. Cowardly, hopeful, dreamer that you are. You just sit back and say, "Tomorrow is another day." All the while, knowing that tomorrow will just be like today and yesterday- a failure. A dismal, crazy, stupid failure that you know you brought upon yourself. That's when you go about telling yourself, "So sue me!" like the crazy madman that you are._

_After all, it's painfully obvious that nobody writes their diary in second person. Like it's not your life, but just a show you're watching and you're talking to its characters, telling them what to do. But this time around, you can't do any rewrites. Not when you don't have the backbone to do so. _

_Dream on, loverboy, dream on._

_Get a life,_

_Ron Weasley_

Ron closed his diary; put down his quill, noting that he, again, had chewed off the ends of it. It had been a long time before he had thought of writing in a diary. Not when he thought of it as such a feminine act. But he had succumbed, especially when he had no one to talk about his problems to, no one to confide in.

He used to tell himself that he could handle it. Used to tell himself that he was strong and a little heart ache was easy compared to what he had been through. But he was wrong. Every single painful thought was like a Cruciatus curse on his heart, only a hundred times worse with no way of it being stopped.

Yet what had hurt the most was that he couldn't just ask help from the people around him. Not when a little romantic predicament was the least of everyone's worries. He couldn't ask help from his best friend- he was to preoccupied with what loomed ahead. Not his sister- she was too worried about his best friend. And, of course, not his other best friend, not at all; especially since she was the root of all his problems.

But he could never blame her. Not when he couldn't possibly survive without her. Not when he couldn't think of a day without setting eyes on her face. So he'd replace that— she wasn't the problem. No, instead, she offered the solution. The real problem was him. His dependence on her presence and his eternal need to see her, hear her; be with her. Yet the inability to tell her so.

He knew that no one could possibly know what he was feeling. For everyone thought and just assumed that they were together. That he had given her the words. When all along he hadn't and didn't know if he should. No, he knew that he should, if only to lighten the burden in his heart. He just didn't know if he could.

When they had begun spending more time together it was not because they suddenly agreed to be a couple. No. It was actually just a way to help their best friend think that it was about time that he got a move on and admitted love for his sister. Give him a little love before the difficulty of battle would overcome him.

It had made him ecstatic- the thought of spending more time with her thinking that over time he could finally tell her. But it had gotten harder each day. For each day that passed they grew more and more comfortable in each other's company. They could spend hours side by side and not say a word yet feel as though they've been talking nonstop. It had been a relief, a sweet joy, a silent victory— and it had scared the living daylights out of him.

He had thought before that he was in love with her. He had been wrong. That hadn't been love. Only when after spending more time with her had he finally discovered the depth and intensity one can feel for another. That was love. True blue, one and only love. He didn't know if he deserved it, didn't know how to keep and preserve it and make it work. So he had kept it hidden.

And the more time that went by without him being able to openly declare his love, he knew the day would come when his heart would spontaneously combust; blow up from the tremendous pressure it longed to be free of. But he always told himself, "Not yet, not yet." Told himself so much hat it had become almost like a chant. And because he was weak and stupid, he had allowed himself to retreat like a loser does.

And a loser he would be, until his "I love you's" remain a silent declaration in his heart.

_I sometimes wonder if I could just hold the sides of his face and make him tell me what I already feel every single time we are together- the love that emanates from him, the love that I don't know why he would never tell me. _

_There are times that I think that maybe he doubts my love or that maybe he does not know of it. This makes me want to just march right over to him and demand that he stop being cowardly and tell me that he loves me and tell him that I love him._

_I know— very bossy and forceful. That's why it's only a dream, a fantasy that would never wind up as a reality. Not when I have feminine dreams of being wooed and persuaded with sweet words and loving gestures._

_When I made the plan for the two of us to spend more time with each other "for Harry's sake" I had hoped that we could talk about maybe being a couple, especially since I liked him. We started out as being a little more that friends, it was unspoken, yes, but I understood that. I understood that we needed adjusting; him more so than me__ since he had just recently left a relationship._

_But as the days had passed and we grew so used to each other and so comfortable with each other that silence was just as satisfying as conversation, had the reality finally struck me. I didn't just like the guy. I was in love with him, plain and simple._

_It filled my heart the day I finally had that realization. It made everything seem brighter, sweeter and better. It was like, for a moment, forgetting that tomorrow could possibly involve us in a terrible war. It made me want to sing and hug everyone around me. It made me want to shout out to the world how wonderful and lovely it felt to be in love. That was when it hit me! I knew I was in love. But I had positively no idea if I was loved._

_Loving the guy was one thing__ but I couldn't just go around on a high when I didn't know if he loved me back. So I became attuned to his words and movements. That's when my heart swelled when I realized that there was a huge possibility that he could love me back. So I waited and waited, sure that he would soon tell me of his feelings. But the day hasn't come yet. I often tell myself that I was done waiting and it was time for moving but I look at him and see what he has to offer. So, I tell myself again that I should wait. For I knew that what I would have at the end would more than make up for it__ and that was worth more to me than anything._

_But by golly, I am going to have those words, even if I have to coerce it out of him!_

_Just kidding,_

_Hermione Granger_

"Ouch!" Hermione cried out as she realized that she had been pulling on her hair rather forcefully. She had no idea that she had been venting her frustration on her hair. She had thought the diary was enough for that. Apparently not.

She sat in silent thought at the frustration that was her love life. She knew that with the war that was about to happen, it wasn't something that she shouldn't succumb to but succumb to it she did. She dwelled. Dwelled on the hurt that she was not given the words, that she wasn't given the love that she longed for. The love that she needed; the love that she wanted and shared.

Every single time she looked at him, she knew. She knew that her world would start and end with him. That after the war if one of them didn't survive, they would be empty, a half of a whole that would forever be incomplete.

She hated every minute that she couldn't spend holding his hands, kissing his lips, whispering in his ears. But it wasn't her fault. She just didn't know if it was his. She knew how his first relationship had come about. The girl had offered herself to him. So who was she, Hermione Granger, to think that she should expect his gentle persuasions.

She was the one he loved and she knew it. She knew that he probably knew that he loved her. It troubled her that maybe he couldn't read the subtle signs he had given him to tell him that she loved him. He wasn't one to understand something not directly said.

She looked around her and took in the vibrant red of the spacious bedroom. She was, after all, Head Girl and it was an added bonus to being the most prominent student in the whole school. And it was even more fascinating to know that at the room beyond hers was Harry. Harry, who had broken history when he was made a Head Boy without having been a prefect during his sixth year.

It comforted her, yet it troubled her how much the urge to open up to him became greater and more apparent as the days and weeks passed. That made it uncomfortable because he was immersed in the upcoming war and nobody could blame him. She would just have been glad to share her quarters with anybody she hated if that meant she can channel her energy into something else.

She rose from her desk and began pacing around her room— disturbed, distraught and frantic. She knew that her feelings were suffocating her and she knew that she was desperate for something beyond what she had at that moment.

But, dreamer that she was, she still wanted and needed to be told first. As she always expected that a girl should be. And because she loved him and believed in him, she was going to let him think it through.

She only wished that before they were forced to fight for their lives, he could share with her his heart.

**A/N:**

I hope you enjoyed that. Thanks to those who'll leave me a review... My update depends on you... I promise to update in two weeks. I guess for every 5 reviews I get I'll minus 2 days to that ultimatum... As reviews would undeniably make me write faster... So much faster...

Toodles...


	2. Chapter 1: Confessions

**A/N:**

Oh my, I didn't see the tenth review so this came later than it should have… Don't worry… I'll carry it over next update.. I promise.

Disclaimer: Not mine..:D

Words

By Heaven'sSweetSymphonies

Chapter 1- Confessions

With a start and a barely heard curse, a bushy-haired girl woke up and looked groggily at her surroundings. The brightness of the red and gold of her bedchamber only served to fuel her already potent aggression.

Taking a huge breath, she fought the overwhelming waves of frustration every single time she had a moment free of schoolwork, worries about the war and Head Girl duties. To get her mind off the issues, she got off her bed and surveyed her room. What she observed really disturbed her — a mess.

Not for the first time, she said a general thank you that she was alone in her room for she noticed that she had, once again, left her diary open for the entire world to see, on her desktop.

Quickly, like a hunted animal she moved from the spot where she was frozen and almost sprinted to her study table. With a downward glance at her diary, she sighed and picked it up.

As she was about to close her diary and put it back in its place, she looked at her latest entry. She saw how peculiar her handwriting looked. It was messy and harried; so unlike her usual neat and precise penmanship.

She heaved a huge sigh for the severity of the situation. She had wished for the longest time that she might enable herself, albeit temporarily, the ability to forget. But looking at how affected her writing, her room and, in general, her life had become she could no longer plead ignorance The inevitability was there- the "Ron" situation had caught up to her life in ways that she couldn't control.

Running a hand through her wild, brown hair, she mumbled, "Not that I would have it any other way."

Heaving a huge sigh she looked back down at her diary and peered at it intently before forcefully closing it. She made a move to open her drawer and, maybe, keep her diary when something drew her to look at the clock on top of mantelpiece. She noted that she had a couple of hours before she had to get ready for school on that fine Monday morning.

Being the ever diligent Hermione, she had already accomplished her homework for that day and the next; she had already fixed her bag with all the books she would require and she had made the whole week's table of prefect duties.

Needless to say she had two choices to pass the time. She could either go back to fitful and restless sleep or crack open her diary and write. As it was obvious that nothing could compel her to go back to sleep, she had only one other option.

With a semi-apprehensive look and an incredulous grin, Hermione snatched up her quill from its position on top of the desk. She also grabbed the ink bottle and, with her diary held tightly to her chest, went down to the Head common room.

She plopped down on the comfortable red sofa Indian style with a pillow on her lap, the ink bottle beside her to her right and began to write:

_I woke up feeling so tired and guilty today. I don't know why. Maybe it's because of the fact that I've been having some really exasperate thoughts about a certain Ronald Weasley these past few days and especially last night, come to think of it._

_I seriously can not believe that I had honestly considered or even thought about confronting him regarding our situation. As bossy as I sometimes come across (and I do admit that I might be bossy), I could not possibly imagine myself doing anything that harsh and blunt. I mean, I love the lad with such passion,__so you would think that I understand how he is when it comes to things like this. Look at the Lav-Lav-Won-Won situation and you'll know what I'm talking about._

_I know__ that Ron isn't the most sensitive of people, and I look back and remember the "teaspoon" and "blunt axe" comments and __I know__ I'm right._ _He must have feelings for he seems to really care for his family and his friends. And, of course I feel that he really cares about me. But, he may be really sensitive and the only thing that stands in his way of manifesting it is the fear of being teased by his five older brothers._

_Obviously, I didn't help very much by being so sensitive to everything that went on between us and him being ignorant of my feelings. We did clash too often. I look into everything that's happened these past few years and the ways that Ronald and I have interacted and I can note that we did seem to fight a lot._

_I cringe in embarrassment just thinking about how people must have seen me as totally immature in my dealings with him. But then again, I wasn't entirely to be blamed— he hadn't been the most mature person either._

_I guess I shouldn't have answered fire with more fire. All I know is that I'm glad we've managed through all that chaos to stay pretty good friends even after all the fights, arguments, and accusations. Now there's the prospect of there being more_

_Oh, the shivers really tingle up and down my spine incessantly whenever I think about Ron as more than a friend. It's like I've discovered the missing page of a precious book. Like adding the last ingredient in a potion to make it effective. Like the perfect wrist movement to cast a spell correctly. _

_To make the long story short, I know that being with him or even just thinking of being with him makes everything in this mixed-up world I live in seem so perfect._

_Perfect. What a word to say when the danger that lurks is far too palpable to ignore or avoid. Yet no matter that such an idealistic point of view is idiotic at a time like this, I know that no other word would feel so right._

_I only wish he'd tell me. I wish that my perfect dreams will end up the perfect reality. I wish that he'd gather his Gryffindor courage and admit to me his feelings._

_I know, I know… you're probably wondering why I'm so certain he feels the way I say he feels. You're probably wondering how come I know that he loves me the way that I love him. You're probably wondering why I'm dead sure he is just hiding feelings instead of them being non-existent. _

_Why? I'd go insane if I don't hold on to this small spark of hope that something right is going on— that I might just be special in his life._

_And I'd rather be expelled from Hogwarts than go mental._

_--Hermione _

If Hermione had hoped that writing in her diary would ease her burdens, she was wrong. True, to a certain extent some weight had been lifted from her shoulders but the ever-lingering pain was still there. She highly doubted that it would ever go away. At least, not until she had what she needed.

She looked at the golden wall clock above the fireplace and saw, with a roll of her eyes, that she had only been writing for half an hour. This meant that it was still far too early to do anything. Dreadfully early though it was, Hermione was already starting to feel miserable.

A noise startled her and she looked warily behind her. Hermione's eyes widened as she saw her best friend coming down the stairs from his bedroom.

"Morning, Hermione. Up early, aren't we?" Harry said with a sleepy smile.

"Morning to you too, Harry. As I can see, you're up early too," Hermione rejoined good- naturedly.

"Early night, you know!" sprung up Harry's reply. With a sly grin in Hermione's direction, he continued, "Not that I can say the same for you."

Hermione's head snapped up at the comment and she blurted out rather guiltily, "Why do you say that, Harry?"

"Well, I woke up in the middle of the night as I needed to use the loo. I saw light coming from an oil lamp through the cracks of your bedroom door," explained Harry.

Hermione replied defensively, "I might have just gone to the loo too, you know!"

Harry burst out laughing, "You're a witch, Hermione. Why would you need an oil lamp to get to the bathroom? And, besides, does going to the bathroom really explain why I heard the scratch of quill on paper?"

Hermione huffed, annoyed, yet with one glance at the incredulous look on Harry's face she gave up. "All right, all right! You win. I confess. I did stay up really late last night, writing." After saying this, she glanced at her diary, which she had placed on top of the table in front of her.

Harry glanced at said diary and back at Hermione when he saw her sigh and her whole body look like it seemed to collapse. The concern was immediate and Harry sprinted from the stairs to come to a stop in front of the sofa and Hermione on it.

He reached out his hand and grasped Hermione's shoulder as he sat down beside her. Eyebrows furrowed, he squeezed her shoulder to offer comfort. "Hermione? What's wrong? What happened? Are you all right?" asked Harry, worry obvious in the tone of his voice.

"Oh Harry…" Hermione's speech was suddenly cut off when, with one look at Harry's anxious face, she succumbed to the sobs that had been threatening to come out for the longest time.

Harry was shocked at Hermione's sudden outburst for no apparent reason. He had not suspected that something so serious was bothering her that she would give in to tears.

Nevertheless, the hand on her shoulder gently pushed her so she was looking directly into his eyes. He wanted to get her to talk about whatever was bothering her. He felt that releasing it and talking about it was the only thing that could help her.

She looked up at him with her eyes watery and more tears threatening to fall. His other hand flew to the side of her face and wiped the tears off her cheek. "Hermione? Tell me what's wrong, please. I want to help you," Harry pleaded gently.

Hermione was still looking at him and the tears that were overwhelming to fall increased. Harry, seeing that she was too upset to talk moved closer and gathered her in his arms to offer some unspoken support.

This was enough to send Hermione over the edge again and, with no concern for his pyjamas, she drowned herself in the warm reassurance her best friend gave her freely. She allowed herself the opportunity to let go, if only to ease some of the weight in her heart.

She cried until she could cry no more; Harry, all the time with his hands on her back rubbing it to offer comfort. After a good, ten-minute cry, Hermione moved away from the tenderness of Harry's arms and, slightly embarrassed, dabbed at her eyes just to avoid Harry's gaze.

Harry looked at her and stood up. Without a word he walked to the small table beside the hearth and poured a glass of water from the pitcher found there.

He walked back to where he had left his best friend and silently offered the glass to her. Hermione looked up and grabbed the water gratefully. She grabbed one of his hands with her free one and pulled him so he would sit back down. Recognizing the gesture, Harry sat down and squeezed the hand still in his.

Hermione smiled weakly and after drinking half of the contents of the glass she said, "Thank you so much, Harry. The hug, the water, the support. I really needed them right now."

"I was glad to do anything and everything to help you Hermione… We're friends. But now that you seem fine can you tell me what's wrong? What was the reason behind your crying fit?" queried Harry encouragingly.

Slowly Hermione stretched her legs out of the Indian-style position and leaned forward to carefully set down her glass. She stared at it thoughtfully as though it held the answer to all her problems.

Suddenly as though just awakened from a trance, she snapped her gaze off of the water and fell back into the softness of the sofa. She closed her eyes and Harry respected that she needed the time to think.

She opened her eyes looked at Harry and heaved a huge sigh. She saw how his head was inclined to the right and read the unspoken question in his eyes.

"Oh, Harry… Where to begin? I don't know, do I look horrible?" she asked jokingly.

Harry raised an eyebrow but didn't answer the question.

Hermione, seeing that stalling was useless just blurted out, "It's Ron."

Harry was startled and some anger could be seen in his green eyes. "What about him? What did he do to you?"

"Harry, he really didn't do anything to me."

"Then why is he the problem?"

"I don't know. I mean… Oh you know… I, uhh, like him."

"As more than a friend, I reckon."

A sigh and a nod.

"So why is that a problem?"

"Well, you know…"

"I thought you two were together."

A sigh and a shake of the head.

"You mean you aren't together? But you got together before Ginny and I did."

"I'm really sorry Harry, but that was a ploy."

"A ploy? What kind of ploy?"

"Well, we talked about the two of you and we knew that you liked each other. We reckoned that if Ron and I were together a lot you'd come around and ask Ginny out. Or in your case, kiss her…"

"What!"

"Well it worked, didn't it?"

"I guess. But why aren't you a couple? Didn't you agree to be 'together'?"

"We didn't agree to be together, we agreed simply to spend more time together. I thought that with the time we were to spend together, it would somehow result in us being 'together.'"

"But it didn't."

A sigh and a rueful smile.

"Hermione, you've got to tell him."

"I can't be like Lavander, Harry."

"But---"

"I have dreams of being wooed, Harry. Just like every other girl on this planet."

"But---"

"I know, Harry. I've thought about it, too. But I want to run the risk that he'll tell me before the war erupts. I was really kind of hoping that the pressure of perhaps having less time on earth would force him to tell me sooner."

"He really likes you, Hermione. He'll come around."

"I hope so, Harry."

"Don't worry, Hermione! He won't dawdle for long."

"But Harry—"

"Yes?"

"I don't just like him…"

"Huh?"

"I love him."

"Oh."

An uncomfortable silence.

"Harry?"

"Hmmm?"

"Someone's knocking."

"I know."

In unison and similar wide eyes, "Wait, someone's knocking."

And there were only two people in the world, who would visit them at that time of day.

**

* * *

**

So who is it? Tell me!

I know that it was corny the way I had all dialogue at the end but I couldn't think of any way to express in better. And, this chapter is subject to a revamp so do not be alarmed if I change it… The thought will remain the same.

A big thanks to my precious reviewers:  
**Snow-Leopard-Patronus, With Love x, Thilda-Liv, mandy, reptileXtitch, Dueler312, paulalou, LitaFanForLife, LaughSpazm, MrsGrint105. **

Thank you guys so much.. I hope you keep on supporting me.

To all my new reviewers ( Hmm… assumptions.) I'll give you a shout-out next time if you leave a review.

Anyway, my two-week update stands.. (minus 2 days for this one since I didn't see the 10th review on time.)

Press the button now. You know you want to…


	3. Chapter 2: Realizations

**A/N:**

Here it is as promised. Chapter 2. Enjoy

Disclaimer: Not mine..:D

Words

By Heaven'sSweetSymphonies

Chapter 2- Realizations

Nobody wakes up at four in the morning and is happy about it. Especially if this somebody slept way past midnight the previous night. This was very true for a certain Ronald Billius Weasley, who was not only suffering from a tremendous lack of sleep, but was also inflicted by a terrible heart ache.

Yet there he was, awake on a Monday morning before dawn. It should have been against the law to wake up after scant hours of sleep, but Ron couldn't have piled charges on himself. The quiet appealed to him because it allowed him to dwell on the severity of the situation he was in.

True, he had woken up dazed and disoriented for his head was fuzzy and his body needed more rest. But how can one rest when closing one's eyes would only result in fitful sleep and disturbing dreams?

When he had regained his common sense and alertness, the first thing his eyes sought out was his diary. He pulled himself from underneath the covers and noted that his roommates were still soundly asleep. This was a surprise as he was the last one to fall asleep the night before.

"_Of course,"_ he thought, _"I spent hours writing and thinking last night, and barely getting any homework done."_ He got up off of his bed and walked quietly to his study table so as not to wake his dorm mates.

He picked up the red, leather notebook, which contained all of his most precious and most-guarded secrets. He opened it to his latest entry and perused his words indifferently.

With a sigh, he closed the notebook and placed it back down carefully. He had read his musings from a second person's point of view and was extremely miserable to note that the overall tone of the voice was sad, bordering on depressed or, if not, was hopeful bordering on desperate.

Trying to clear his minds from such melancholy thoughts his eyes were drawn to a small framed photo that had a special place on his study table. With a rueful smile, he moved closer and plucked it from its place of honor.

It was a picture taken just last summer by Ginny when they were all staying over at the Burrow. It showed, from left to right: him, Hermione and Harry. The two boys were unnoticed as Ron stared at picture. All he had eyes for was Hermione, who was smiling at the camera, amused and squeezing Harry's arm.

Ronald knew that like everyone, he was in the middle of an upcoming war, an impending crisis. Possibilities of pain, tears and anguish were more apparent than they had ever been before, but there he was, thinking of her.

He was thinking of what they might have together before the upcoming war drove them apart. He wanted to hold her for a minute if only so he might live with the memory for the rest of his existence or during the last minutes of his life. After all, he would never know what was going to happen during the looming dangers. He just wanted to be prepared for it. And he probably wasn't if he couldn't even muster enough courage to tell her of his true feelings.

With a start, Ron began blinking rapidly and was disconcerted to realize that he had almost burst into unexpected tears. As though wounded, he quickly put the photo back to where it had come from. He also swiped at his eyes with the hem of his pajama top to remove the evidence of his near-tear experience.

Unfortunately, if he had woken up with a heavy heart, it was certainly nothing compared to the intensity of what he was feeling at that exact moment. Though he was extremely reluctant to admit it, he accepted it. He accepted the fact that the only way to help ease what he was feeling was to write.

His gaze was drawn to the red notebook, which served as his journal, on his desktop and he sighed in defeat. Picking it up, along with a quill and his inkpot, Ron raced down the stairs to the common room on that early Monday morning.

He plopped down unceremoniously on his favorite chair and propped his legs up. He began writing with his journal on the table he had dragged over:

_It's, oh I don't know, barely fifteen minutes after four o'clock in the morning and already I find myself in the emptiness of the red and gold common room of the brave and proud Gryffindors, finding myself to be anything but brave and proud._

_I read through my journal entry last night. Don't ask me why, for all I know is that I wrote it in the dead of the night and I might implicate myself with what I'd written. Surprise, surprise--- I did. Thank heavens I woke up before any of my roommates did. That gives me ample opportunity to hide my, um, diary and forget that I'm feeling terribly girly by chronicling my life and pouring my hearts out to an inanimate object._

_I know Tom Riddle had a diary and he's a boy, but he also turned out to be the one of the most powerful and most evil wizards ever. As I have no desire to be like him, I doubt that the thought of his having a diary serves to comfort me at moment. _

_And yet, the appeal of doing something so seemingly forbidden drives me to write when, at any moment, anyone could come down and discover me. I guess it wouldn't matter… much. Sometimes I think of what Hermione would think if she found out that I write in a diary and ninety-nine percent of it all about her._

_Bloody hell, there I go mentioning her again after I'd gone through so much pain to avoid the topic altogether. Since I've started, I fear that I can't escape it anymore. I'm thinking of her so much and I'm beginning to fear that it might not be healthy. Who am I kidding though? _

_I was looking at our picture just a while back. We— or she (as I looked only at her)— seemed so happy. And that's how I want her to be for as long as we live. And with the war closing in on us, I don't know how long that's going to be._

_So here comes my doubts, will she be happy if I tell her I love her? What if she loves another? What if our friendship is destroyed and the three of us are separated? I don't think I can handle the pain of losing them both. And, most particularly, I can not bear the thought of losing Hermione. _

_But then, I wonder. Harry took a chance when he kissed my sister last year. For all he knew, that could have ended up with her slapping him. Instead, they ended up together. And they're happy. I think about it, and I guess I don't know what will happen if I just blurt out my feelings to Hermione. _

_But I want to, ever so much. Even if she doesn't love me back. I don't care. All I want is for her to know that I love her when we're out there fighting. I'd be happy enough with the knowledge that she knows. _

_Unfortunately, a small part of me is saying that I'll be a fool if I go out on a limb and risk everything just to end up hurt. That would be my ego talking. It's there; I'm not ashamed to admit, but what do you do when you're heart and mind are telling you two very different things?_

_What I need is help. Just someone to guide me. I need someone, who's well-versed in the art of romance and who knows Hermione well. I need Ginny! Yes, I know that I said I wouldn't bother her for Harry's sake, but, please, I'm desperate._

_So, on that note, I'm going now to break down the door of the girls' dormitory and beg Ginny for help._

Right?

Ron stood up so abruptly that he knocked the inkpot off the table, causing it to spill on the carpet. Not caring, Ron rushed to the door of the 6th year girls' dormitory, and began shouting to call Ginny's attention. After all, boys weren't allowed to enter the girls' rooms so he had to content on making a complete fool of himself. He didn't even stop to consider to sir and wait for her to wake up. No, he considered the situation to be a matter of complete urgency.

"Ginny," shouted Ron, "wake up!"

He banged on the door with his right hand balled to a fist.

"Ginny, please. I need your help," screamed the desperate teenager.

More banging.

Suddenly, a grunt and a frustrated scream was to be heard from inside.

"Uh-oh," mumbled Ron, fear filling his stomach when he began to realize the conaequences of what he had just done.

BANG! The door opened with such force and behind it, was Ginevra Weasley, also known as the possessor of the best Bat-Bogey Hex in Hogwarts.

"Ronald Billius Weasley," shrieked Ginny in a voice uncannily like their mother's, "what on earth possessed you to try and wake up the entire tower by your screaming?"

"Well, you're not helping any by shouting too, you know?" replied Ronald amusedly.

"For your information, brother dearest, I cast a _Muffliato_ before I started screaming. So, only you and I can hear my shouting!" shouted Ginny, irritated.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. It's just that I needed your help," said Ron, with an apologetic grin.

"Well, since I am already up and about I guess I could listen to you," said Ginny, with a sigh of defeat.

"Did I wake you up, though?" asked Ron sheepishly.

"No. I'm supposed to go to the Head common room to visit Harry. We planned it. That's why I turned in early last night," she replied truthfully.

"Oh? Am I keeping you then?" inquired Ron.

"No. Not really. It is still a bit early. We planned on quarter to five," said the female redhead.

"Oh."

"Well... What were you screaming about, anyway? You sounded so desperate."

"I have a problem."

"You have mentioned that. Again, I suppose you wouldn't shout at the top of your lungs at four in the morning, if you only wanted to say hello. But then again…"

"No, no, Ginny. Of course I have a problem. I, uh, well… you know?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking."

A sigh and a weak smile.

"What is it Ron? Tell me, I promise I won't bite."

"Ha ha."

"Why didn't you just talk to Harry about it?"

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because, I don't think I can handle talking about something like this with him."

"Well? What is it? Just spit it out."

"It's Hermione."

"Really? Did you have a fight?"

"No. That's not it."

"Well then, what is it? I can't help you when you're being so vague you know?"

"I know. It's just that I like her." Sigh.

"Yes. That's why you're going out together, right?" Eye roll.

"We're not."

"What do you mean you're not? Did you break-up?"

"We couldn't possibly break-up. We were never together in the first place."

"Never together? But, you were always with each other. Everyone just assumed that… Ugh, I'm confused."

"I never wanted to admit it, Ginny, but we planned it."

"Planned what?"

"You know, spending time together so you and Harry would get together."

"What!" A look of pure outrage.

"Yes. Sorry, Gin. I didn't mean to."

"Well. It's all right, I guess. Since it worked and all. But didn't the spending more time together lead to the two of you being together?"

"Unfortunately not."

"Why?"

"I didn't give her the words."

"Well then, why don't you?"

"I'm scared. And firstly, I don't know how."

"You don't know how? You just tell her that you like her. That's it. End of story."

"But I don't just like her, Ginny. I love her."

Wide eyes and a girly shriek. "Oh my god! That's so sweet. My brother in love."

"Calm down. I am in love with her, but I don't know what I'm going to do. That's why I need your help."

"Hmm. Of course. You're absolutely right. You do need my help."

"I do."

"So, I'm going to help you."

"Thanks. So, what's the plan?"

"I'm going over to the Head common room to talk to Harry."

"Ginny, no! You have to promise not to tell anyone what I told you today. Especially Harry and Hermione."

"Oh, all right. No need to fuss. But I do need to go to the Head common room, you know?"

"Yeah, you did say that."

"Want to come with me?"

"What? Uh, no. No thanks."

An amused smile. "I can't believe I have such a coward for a brother."

"Hey!"

"Well? Isn't it true?"

"I guess."

"I told you so."

Sigh.

"Don't worry, Ron. I still love you, even if you are such a coward."

"Ginny!"

Laughter followed and Ginny was out through the portrait door and sprinting off to see Harry before Ron acan throttle her.

**A/N:**

No killing me, please. I will continue about the knock on the door next chapter. I just wanted us to see Ron first.

There, a shout out to my reviewers:

**Dueler312, hurricanerosie, Hermione-and-Ron-forever-together, LitaFanForLife, Snow-Leopard-Patronus, MrsGrint105, paulalou, ecrire.claustrum, LaughSpazm, reptileXtitch**

All beta-ing is thanks to Doroteja. Love you lots, girl!:D

Oh, and kindly read my one-shot, "Dinner Time," (It's in my author page) it's really close to my heart. The lack of reviews for it disheartens me. And to think that it had so many hits… Anyway…

Again, my updates rely on you.. Thank you… (You know, the two weeks but minus two days per five reviews thing.)

Press that button now. S'il vous plait? Merci.


	4. Chapter 3: Shhh

A/N: Oh my… I am about a month too late in my promise to you but my internet went down and wi-fi was unavailable in my school… So, grr.. I know… You must hate me…

Words

By: Heaven'sSweetSymphonies

Chapter 3- Shh…

_[excerpt from Chapter 1:_

"_Harry?"_

"_Hmmm?"_

"_Someone's knocking."_

"_I know."_

_In unison and similar wide eyes, "Wait, someone's knocking."_

_And there were only two people in the world, who would visit them at that time of day._

"So," Harry began uncertainly, "who's going to answer the door?"

"You should," said his bushy-haired best friend decisively.

"Oh?" replied the black-haired wizard teasingly. "Why?"

"Because…" Hermione trailed off hesitatingly.

Harry looked at her disconcertingly and Hermione looked back, feeling uncomfortable at the entire situation.

Suddenly, when the tension was too much, Hermione burst out, "Harry. Just please answer the door." 

Harry raised his eyebrows uncharacteristically with the same disturbing gaze said, "Oh, all right Hermione."

Hermione sighed in apparent relief when Harry continued, "But, I don't think that it's very brave or Gryffindor-like of you not to face your trepidation."

Hermione scrunched her eyebrows together at this and merely replied, trying to make light of the situation, "Big word, Harry."

Harry looked not at all pleasant at Hermione's attempt to change the topic. But out of respect for his friend, he merely replied, "Hmm. If you say so."

Though he did give her a look that said plainly and simply that she was not off the hook.

Hermione sighed at this and started to walk towards the stairs to her room while Harry started to walk in the opposite direction towards the door. The person on the other side was knocking very incessantly and he wanted to open it to stop the noise.

Halfway up the stairs, Hermione turned around to look at Harry, who was just about to open the portrait door.

"Umm, Harry…" she said, a red tinge staining her cheeks.

"Yes?" asked Harry his right hand holding the side of the portrait that was acting as the door.

Carefully, Hermione raised her right hand's index finger to touch her pursed lips.

Understanding the gesture, Harry nodded his head solemnly.

Relief washed over Hermione and she said in a soft voice, a small smile on her lips, "Thank you."

Harry returned the smile and answered, "Anytime. We're friends, Hermione. Okay?"

Hermione's smile stretched further and she raced up the stairs leaving Harry alone in the common room.

He smiled and looked to where she had disappeared when with a start he realized that someone was still knocking.

His eyes widened in fright when he remembered the promise he had made the day before. Pulling on the painting, Harry was greeted by an irate redhead, who had her wand out.

8—8—8

_[Excerpt from chapter 2:_

"_Don't worry, Ron. I still love you, even if you are such a coward."  
_

"_Ginny!"_

Laughter followed and Ginny was out of through the portrait door and sprinting off to see Harry before Ron could attempt to strangle her.

Ginny was sprinting for her life when she heard footsteps following her. She turned around and saw her brother.

"I didn't think you'd come with me," she said while gasping for breath as she had come to an abrupt stop.

"I'm not coming with you," Ron replied, also gasping for breath while clutching his side.

Ginny gave a short laugh and asked teasingly, "Why of course. You're here because you want to go for an early morning stroll like you always do. I'm not buying it, Ronald."

Ronald gave an exasperated sigh and answered, "It's not that Ginny."

"Well don't keep me in suspense. Why did you suddenly decide to be my shadow? Mind you. You are much too tall to be my shadow," she asked him impatiently.

"You left in such a hurry that I just wanted to be absolutely sure that you wouldn't tell," said Ron uncertainly, his right hand in his pocket as he struggled to find the right words.

"Tell what?" asked Ginny, cocking her head to the side.

"You know. What we talked about this morning," replied Ron, who was starting to feel very uncomfortable about the situation.

"What did we talk about this morning?" asked Ginny, attempting to annoy her brother.

"Ginny! You can't expect me to say it here. I can barely say it in the privacy of my room," replied Ron, who was already red at the topic of their conversation.

"Oh, hush, Ronald. No need to get your socks a in knot. I won't tell anyone the contents of what we talked about. I remember that I already swore that I wouldn't," she said in an attempt to mollify her brother.

"Yes. I know. I just wanted to make it clear," he said seriously.

"Yes. And it's very clear. Do not worry. I won't tell a soul," she said grabbing his arm to reassure him.

"You won't tell Harry."

"I won't tell Harry."

"You won't tell Hermione."

"Of course I won't. If I did it would defeat the entire purpose of making you tell her how you feel."

"Uh-huh. And you won't tell Gavin."

"Gavin! I almost forgot about him."

"You shouldn't. You know how curious he is."

"Okay. I won't forget about him. And yes, I won't tell him."

"Thanks, Ginny."

"Anytime, Ron. I'm your sister. If I'm not patient with you, who else will be?"

"Ha-ha."

"See you around. Are you sure you don't want to go to the Head Room with me?"

"Thank you but I'm not really in a mood to go there."

"All right. Suit yourself. Bye, Ronald. You should take that early morning walk now."

"My sister, a comedian."

"Just go, Ron!"

**A/N:**

Ugh, I have no idea how to make this longer so it ended up abysmally short. Forgive me and know that the next chapter (if you can even call this a chapter) will be much longer. I already have it written out and will post it soon..:) When I am feeling nice (Which will be very soon) I will update.

Next chapter: Who is Gavin? To clear things up, it will be the scene outside the common room while Harry and Hermione are talking. Therefore, it will be before the first scene in this chapter.

Sorry if this chapter is so uneventful, I made it because I wanted to emphasize how Ron and Hermione are really scared of revealing their feelings that they their friends (or sister) (Harry and Ginny) to absolute secrecy. Hopefully, more will happen in the next chapter.

Please leave me a review even if you just want to shout at me.


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